Pale moon
fluttering in a corner of the sky
spilling
salt-
water
across
the swamp known as Beach
Street
the
silver & the gold
& so forth
turquoise & chrome
― a vast expanse, a great
expense ―
I’d
trade in this sunburn for a sea-blue El Camino
w/wings
but
deals like that just don’t happen anymore.
Strange bodies hovering outside the cheap cigarette store
there
has to be an explanation
& I’m working on it
but it spooks the horses
